


trigger finger

by hellhoundsprey



Series: triggerfinger!verse [1]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: 'verse' is short for 'versatile' which means the character both bottoms AND tops in this fic, Daddy Kink, Double Anal Penetration, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Spitroasting, Threesome - M/M/M, Top Jeffrey, Unsafe Sex, Verse Jared, Verse Jensen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 07:29:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13429848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellhoundsprey/pseuds/hellhoundsprey
Summary: Jeff brings a new plaything. It's neither the first nor the last.





	trigger finger

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DickBaggins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DickBaggins/gifts).



> Happy birthday, babe ♥.

 

A car in Morgan's driveway can only mean so many things, and one of them is that Jared should be hauling ass. It's one of those Burning Alive summer days and he's just finished mowing lawns, should probably shower, but the cicadas are screaming their hearts out and Jeff's (so far) never complained about his BO.

In contrast to Dad, and Mom, and the teachers, and basically every grown-up that makes Jared not want to see the light of day, most of the days, Jeff in fact complains about very little things concerning Jared.

He leaves his flip-flops on the unkempt grass, presses along the walls of the house, over stones and long-burnt weeds. The only tree in Morgan's garden has lost most of its leaves at this point and throws barely any shade; just enough that Jared can pause, take some well-needed breaths, and listen. Not much to hear from here but enough to tell that no TV comes on and that no bottles are clinking. He lifts himself up the windowsill and slips in, perfectly silent one-seventy pounds on bare feet on Morgan's kitchen tiles. Backed up against the wall, again, and listening.

The usual grubby-stale air is underlaid with a cologne that isn't Jeff's. Blinds and curtains half-drawn, maybe in a hurry, but then again Jeff never seems to touch the interior at all. Like he wants to preserve it, like it's special exactly the way it is.

“Shit.” (That's not Jeff.) Chuckle, dizzy. “This is probably, uh. I dunno. At least close the curtains.”

“My house, my rules.” (That's Jeff.) For awhile now, Jared can tell when he smiles while talking. “Nobody's there. Why don't you take that off, huh?”

Jared peeps around the corner just in time to see the guy wrestle his t-shirt over his head. He's broad, muscled—chlorine-bleached tips of short-short hair, acid-washed jeans that Jeff cradles his hands around to feel out the ass underneath.

Blurted, “Hey,” that goes along with the weakest of a push, gurgled-nervous laugh. Jared flicks his tongue against the back of his teeth while he watches Jeff mouthing at that bared neck. Jeff gets those arms slung around his shoulders, all swollen muscle and tan skin. Jeff doesn't spot him, not yet.

Deep inhale, deeper growl. The guy laughs, again, like Jeff's tickling him. “Dude.”

“What? Smells so fine, right here.”

A soft sound, tensed shoulders. Maybe Jeff is biting him. (Jeff can bite like a dog.)

“Mm. Tastes like whiskey though.”

More laughing. Jeff's got big hands but they're barely getting around all of that ass. Jeff noses around that ear. Jared can see those teeth shine. His mouth waters.

“Guess we shouldn't be telling my dad,” the guy says, and Jeff's laughter bellows so loud Jared swears he can feel it all the way to the kitchen.

“Yeah,” Jeff says, “no.”

Kissing noises. Sighing noises. Clothes shift and rub and Jeff's kneading blondie like the juiciest thing. Jared grabs between his legs for a first time (not today, but) into this.

It takes some time to convince the guy to take his jeans off. Something about him seems unsure even though Jared can see his hard-on from here. Can see how he curls into every touch, especially into the hand cupping between his legs. His boxer briefs cut into the pudge just above his hips, just a bit. He's murmuring, pawing at Jeff's tee, Jeff's dog tags. He might be drunk, but not so much he doesn't get on with what is happening.

Makes a face first when Jeff puts one of his hands on the crotch of his jeans; Jared can see that pout from here, the fat swell of that lip before it's tucked behind teeth, and the guy grins, rubs at Jeff with the same easiness Jeff always rubs at them.

Part of Jared can't help but white-knuckle for how Jeff tilts that guy's face up by the chin, the way he looks at him, considers him with that hunger-pinched mouth. But Jeff told him, kid, it's not like that.

“Said I could do whatever, back in the bar,” Jeff says, like he has to remind the guy. Clock's about to strike three, soon. “That still true, huh?”

That head lolls, sure for Jeff to chase, catch. “Mh, I dunno,” baby-slurred, drooping eyes framed with girl-lashes Jared can see all the way across the room. Hand still kneading that dick, jut of his own ass and one free arm balanced on the armrest of Jeff's beat-up sofa Jared got his ass turned out on last Thursday. “Maybe if you're real nice, get us pizza later. If you let me spend the night.”

“Sweetheart, feel free to move in tomorrow.” (It's that nonsense-talk, spoken straight up against teeth and tongue, that usually gets Jared in trouble. That gets him so wet-dicked and stupid he says yes to whatever, and maybe that's how the girls in the movies feel when the handsome jock tells them they truly, really, totally love them. Fucking stupid.) Jeff's on that throat again, delirious laugh from the high he always gets with something pretty attached to his cock.

Rucks those boxers down and tells him, “Gonna get you anything you want. Chocolate sprinkles on top,” like this is still negotiable, like there is still some part of that guy he isn't guaranteed to have. Jared can tell where those fingers are sneaking to, jab at, because everything in the guy stutters, so fast so soon and for a weak second Jared actually doubts if he's really into this, really knows what it's all about but then he hears, “Okay, Daddy,” breathed tight and warm and Jared's cock lurches in his shorts.

Jeff gives doggy-tongue kisses, wet and deep. Keeps his hand working, those boxers still stretched between those thighs, and humps the generously offered palm he's still got. “Gonna keep callin' you Jenny, though,” like a dirty old man, and Jared likes the thought.

“You can call me whatever the fuck you want,” is gonna be the last full sentence Jared's gonna hear in quite a while.

He watches, listens, fondles his junk over and soon inside his shorts. No way to jerk off so close to them, they'll hear; he gets wet so easy so much nowadays and wipes off the excess on whatever dry patch of fabric he can get.

Blondie is porn movie pretty. Like the girls, but with shorter hair, and short nails, and no tits. Less makeup too but his mouth is reddish-pink quick enough. He doesn't make a hassle out of going to his knees, letting Jeff dip his cock past his lips. Would be putting up more of a fight if he knew of the places it goes (like Jared does (acutely) know).

This can't be the first time he's done this. He doesn't gag until Jeff makes him, and even then manages to keep his food down. Jeff pats that bulged-out cheek like a proud father, and Jared thinks he can see the guy smiling despite the insane stretch (to his mouth, and his jaw, and his throat).

Jared phantom-licks the corner of his mouth.

Jeff has such a weak spot for the real pretty ones, but most of those know his type and thus avoid it like kittens avoid bottomless wells. Jared's dick has seen many sevens or eights. It knows a ten when he sees one.

If Jeff really keeps this one around until morning, Jared thinks he might have to skip dinner at home, and breakfast.

Paws on that presented ass—Jared can't see a damn thing but can imagine. “God, look at you.” Jeff Morgan sounds and looks heart-pulled, about to cry or to make something cry. “Luckiest bastard alive, aren't I.”

Jared cranes his neck.

Blondie is chuckling, head nestled on his shoulder, peering back at Jeff. Lip between his toothpaste-ad teeth, so fucking wicked Jared smiles along, unseen. Jared likes compliments, too.

Those green eyes roll and slide shut eventually, upon Jeff diving in face-first. That head ends up hanging low, mumbling bullshit and babymama-sighs that have Jared's asshole pulsing in sympathy. Jeff groans Sunday feast noises, muffled and wet and Jared wants _that_ , too.

(There's not much good to say about his high school years but for the scrape of Jeff Morgan's beard between his legs.)

Choke-hold around his cock, just under the mushroom head of it, wringing hard until it almost-hurts. He drips on his toe.

Sometimes, Jeff doesn't invite him in at all. Lets him watch, sure, but it's been awhile, and in this case Jared might not be able to forgive and forget.

If he can't at least touch... Well, maybe once they're asleep.

Morgan's back up on his feet, one hand resting on that small of a back and the other corkscrewing some good pumps of lube into that dream. (Jeff's always prepared.) Murmurs low, “How many before me, huh,” adds another finger judging by the clench and hiss from the guy. “Don't feel like a slut, Jenny.”

'Jenny' manages, “Boyfriends,” and sounds ten times more drunk than only minutes ago.

“What, five? Ten? Twenty?”

“Two, Jesus, you're an asshole...”

“Oh, that's so sweet.” Wolf-grin, quick and quicker twists of wrist. “Does that make me your new boyfriend, then?”

Moan floating into grunt floating into chuckle. “Number two might make an objection.” Jeff slams his free hand over his ass, and blondie yelps.

Jeff does it again, happier than ever. “That's kinda dirty of you.”

Juvie-grin, “Eat me.”

“Maybe later.” A last slap before Jeff grabs his cock instead, guides it where his fingers scissor wide and bumps the head against the crowd of them. “For now, just take a deep breath for Daddy.”

“W-we should...”

Jeff promises, “I'm clean,” and Jared doesn't blame blondie for caving in.

There's only so much protest you can muster up with Jeff Morgan on your back, however brave you think you are. Then he starts pushing in, and you realize he has you where he wanted you from the start, and that every little thing built up to this very moment where he's spearing you like a pig, where he's all you can feel and all you'll think about, and that this wasn't your decision at all but you've been _chosen_ , and it's good. God, so good.

Jeff buries himself all the way and blankets over the guy, has him around his itty-bitty waist and lets him tremble it out. Bathes in the feeling of him, and Jared can only imagine how something this outside-pretty might feel from the inside. Can only guess by Jeff's dream-closed eyes, the slack of his mouth and the slur to his sigh, the mindless drag of teeth over that shoulder.

The room—if not the entire house—is awfully quiet. Like everything is listening to them, for them, like Jared does. As if it understands that this is not to be disturbed.

They're both facing the back of the sofa now, blondie half-buried in there as Jeff starts to rut all slow and molasses. Jared turns for a slightly better view, moves his hips now instead of his hand. Their angle doesn't offer him much. Animal-stacked on top of each other, faces hidden. Jared is left with the softest of pained groans, barely any slick-suck noises yet. ( _Yet_.)

“This what you needed,” Morgan decides, pinch to his voice telling Jared he's almost done being cute.

Jared hears, “Uh-huh,” sobby and cushion-quiet. Hears the wail and squelch caused by Jeff's teeth and cock and his own balls throb for it, almost-pulse of cream stopped at the base by a quick hand. Jared can't feel much of his face but he might be sweating again.

Jeff clamping their mouths shut or Jeff letting them be all loud; hard to say which one's hotter. He switches from one to the other, naturally, grips hips or throat to pull blondie back to meet him bone-crushing good. Jared can taste him slobbering from over here.

Hears, “Fuck me, fuck me,” just because Jeff's always so quiet in his focussed moments, strangled and choked and gurgling because Jeff's wringing both strong hands around his throat now, and for the sweetest of beats, all there is is Jeff's heavy breath and the wet suck of pussy swallowing cock over and over and over. Until Jeff releases him and he gasps for air so desperately and greedily his throat creaks—so then Jeff grabs him, again, and those eyes slip back closed, and he's one arched, silent, frozen line.

His head's turning scarlet like his asshole must be, roots of hairs all the way down to where neck meets shoulders. Jared can see the bite marks from here.

Just when Jared's both alarmed and desperate enough to step in any second, Jeff lets go, pulls out, steps back from the collapsing body. His laughter bounces off the walls and Jared smiles along, can't help but making heart-eyes at the slick fat line of Jeff's cock, the entire sweat-drenched man.

Jeff doesn't look at him, wipes drenched strands of hair out of his eyes. Reaches his other hand towards where Jared's never seen a door in all the time he remembers, crook-wriggles his forefinger, palm up.

Jared's heart skips.

Eyes to Jared now, raised eyebrows. He's frozen though, cock wet in his hand and shoulder half-curled around the corner. Flinches, when Jeff steps into motion. Jeff grabs him by the arm and pulls him into the scene.

“Look what the cat dragged in.”

The guy looks up and straight at Jared's face, and Jared doesn't think he's ever been this mortified to be alive, at all.

Jared's cock lurches, helplessly, hanging awkward from the tugged-low waistband of his basketball shorts and bare inches from the guy's face (the shiny-red circle of his mouth, the smatter of sunburnt freckles, the popped vessels in the whites of his eyes).

Jared doesn't tug on the grip Jeff has around his wrist, but Jeff fastens it regardless. “Looks like he wanna play too, huh.” Jared flinches at the flat-handed slap to his cock, but can't take to look away from the guy. (Who, for a second though, drops his eyes down to Jared's in-motion cock.) “Jensen,” Jeff says, “this is Jared. Say hi, Jared.”

Jared says, “Hi.”

“What kinda shit is this?”

“Jay here's a good kid,” Jeff explains.

“Are you kidding me?” 'Jensen' frowns, flickers the green of his eyes between the two of them. “Is he even legal?”

“I'm twenty, you asshole.”

“Jared.”

“Sorry. Sorry.”

“You ever had a threesome?” Jeff curls a generous hand around Jared's cock, smothers the tip. Jared's eyes roll against his will, and he chases the touch.

'Jensen' offers, hesitantly, “No.”

“He's pretty good at it. Whatever you want.”

“Wait, have you been _watching_ us?”

“Jared?”

“Huh? Oh,” babbling, cock-drunk. “Yeah, I. Sorry.”

“Obviously not sorry enough.” Upside-down tug on his cock, hand between his shoulder blades. “Tell him,” Jeff hums. “Tell him what you're thinking, baby. Ask real nice.”

“I, I wanna...” Jared's mouth isn't good with words. His face flushes at the reminder of it, at the intense stare of the stranger, the smell of sex and warm skin so so close now. Licks his lip. “I-if you want to, we can. I can, uh. You're real pretty.” Jeff snickers, next to him, and he babbles, “Sorry, sorry.”

“It's fine. Man, you're real hard.” Jeff whacks Jared's cock in the air with his grip around the fat base of it, and Jared's balls tingle. Says, “Jen,” and, “he really likes you.”

“C-can I fuck him? I, uh, I mean, you,” eyes from Morgan to doll face, still awestruck and fuck-flushed, disheveled from being choked and gutted and pressed into the sofa. Jared tries, “Please,” adds, “Or, you can fuck me, i-if you, I don't m-mind. Please.”

“Jared.” Soft, close. “Take off your clothes and sit on the floor for me, alright?” Jared nods, quick, happy to be released; rushes a few steps away while already pulling his shirt off. Hears Jeff from behind, “Your choice. You're the guest,” not meant for him.

He sits on his haunches, hands on his knees and Jensen has shifted by now, ass no longer in the air but propped up on his side, with Jeff seated and on the armrest, petting through the blond of his hair, cock standing up filthy and proud in his lap. Murmuring options, and consolations, and endeavors, while Jared is being sized up, silently judged. Awkward and splotched red as his face feels, Jared doesn't look away.

Jeff raises his voice for that, “Don't,” without even looking and Jared's hand lowers away from his cock again.

Jensen locks eyes with him for a moment. Jared feels like begging, again. Sees the promised shine of blown-out asshole, the thick swell of muscles all over the guy. All in his peripheral, _right_ _there_.

“We can fuck him together, if you want. Both of us on him. Or him and me on you. You ever thought about that? Two dicks in your ass?”

Jensen says, “Jesus.”

“Or one in your ass, one in your mouth. I got some shit upstairs too in case you feel creative.” Hand around that shoulder, reaching down to tug on a nipple. Jensen's face is half-buried in Jeff's armpit now, but he's still looking at Jared. “Whatever you want, sweetheart. Tell us what you want.”

Jensen is so quiet Jared fears he might hear his heart pounding across the ten feet between them.

“Hm. I want...”

Jensen's eyes slide lower on him. Jared gets distracted by the tit fondling going on, the endless pretty valley of bare, new skin.

“Let him fuck me,” he sighs, “just a little.”

Jeff throws his head back in a laugh. “Some test drive,” and Jared's heating up head to toe, feels his mouth breaking into a wide smile. “Kid, get your ass over here.”

He makes half the distance on his knees.

The skin on Jensen's ankles is so fucking soft.

“Fuck,” Jensen gasps, and Jeff laughs, maybe Jared's twisting him around too fast, wrestles him from side to back despite an easy thirty pounds of weight difference. The only reason Jared's not in there yet is because he slips on the first try.

Jensen makes sweet-girl sounds scrambling to pry his ass open, bent in half and feet curling behind Jared's bloodshot ears. Yelps, “Shit, _fuck_!” and Jared sinks inches eight and nine and grinds them deep, digs his heels into the floor and struggles for a steady grip on those legs.

Jensen whines like he's already crying and Jeff laughs entirely affectionate, pinches mouth and nose shut with one hand and plays with one already inflamed looking nipple with the other, while Jared gets to work.

Jensen is open, and perfect, and deep.

Jeff's had hustlers over that took him half as good.

“Tell him, Jay.”

“Feels so good. God, you feel so good. Knew you would, saw you and knew, that.” Slurred, half-intelligible at most, but the noise Jensen makes hints that he doesn't mind it much. Jared repeats, dumbly, “You're so pretty,” and hauls him closer, has him hanging from hands and cock, only shoulders balanced on the cushions anymore, hair sticking into every direction and Jeff keeping a hold on his arms so he doesn't fall.

Jensen's so loud Jared forgets all about wanting to come. Cancels that shit, because no way he stops any of this.

Jeff wedges three fingers into that open mouth, hooks and pulls. Cups that jaw with the other hand, knees on the sofa, bowed down so he can speak directly to Jensen's face. Asks, sweetly, “You gonna come?”

Jared feels it the moment that most gurgled version of, “Yes, Daddy,” comes out; the flutter and then the squeeze, and holy shit, holy shit.

He grits his teeth and plows through all the bucking, and milking, and struggling. It's a two-guy effort, and Jensen ends up on Jeff instead of the couch, arms hooked under his pits so he stays suspended between them, howling and sobbing and he's got his own come splattered up to his chin.

Jeff has mercy at some point.

He gestures for Jared to stop, and Jared does that. Goes careful about lowering the still-trembling thing on the floor and gets his face petted nice for that, cranes into the touch, the warmth of Jeff's huge hand. Half-climbs over Jensen for a kiss, hands on Jeff's knees for leverage.

“Kiss him too, it's alright if you wanna.”

Jared's eyes fly open, and, yes. Yes.

He crouches down, both hands arranging that face, learning the shape of it, the heat of it. Jensen's still breathing funny and doesn't move much. Jared dips his tongue just past that slick lip, kisses edges of teeth before nipping on him.

Jensen kissing back is kind of a revelation.

Heated, and slick, and the softest. Jared licks into that, gets a sigh, eats it up.

Jensen has enough spit for two.

Jared might be second-hand drunk by the time he's getting tugged up by his hair. Leans and opens his mouth for Jeff's steady-held cock, swallows it down and ignores the taste and jacks himself right over Jensen's face. Feels a tongue on his balls, eventually, and spreads his legs some more. Prays his day-old ball sweat won't deal-break this.

(It doesn't.)

Two hands in his hair, guiding his head. The angle is off but there's nowhere to go, and Jensen's tonguing soft at his asshole now, so.

Jeff holds him pressed nose to pubic bone, and holds, and holds, just because he knows Jared won't bail on him, ever.

He's getting cute French kisses now and sinks lower once Jensen puts his hands on his ass, pries him open that little more. Jared almost-sits now, and circles his hips. He's getting precome into Jensen's hair. Once let up for air, Jared gets slapped across his face, hard, swallows and gasps, “Thank you,” eyes closed, thighs shaking with the strain of squatting over Jensen's mouth.

Jeff hits him again, tells him, “Ride it,” and Jared's lifting to a stand before realizing he's losing Jensen's mouth with it. Looks down after turning, Jensen's eyes striking and awake and his arms stretched out over his head, strawberry-blond armpit hair on display, and Jared's flexible but not flexible enough to nuzzle his face in there while reverse-cowgirl climbing Jeff's lap, but. Maybe later.

Jeff scoots so low he's only on the couch with his upper back anymore, giving Jared room to lean back and support his weight on his arms; switches to his elbows, from feet on the floor to feet on Jeff's thighs. Jeff re-grabs the pump bottle from behind the cushion and helps lining his cock up, licks along the curve connecting Jared's neck to his shoulder. Jared's abs are feeling this already, but it is gonna work, at least for a while (for as long as Jeff wants it to).

Jeff's cock smears inside-up without much preamble and pushes forward just as insistent. Makes Jared choke on it, and Jared's never said it out loud but Morgan knows he can take it, and loves it, and wouldn't want it any other way than how Jeff likes it best. He never has to explain anything to Jeff.

It always feels huge. Like a fist. Except that Jared knows what a fist feels like in there, but if he didn't, he'd still think it would be like _this_.

Gets his shaky thighs rubbed, gets push-pulled down until he snarls, until Jeff has to fuck in-out to get anywhere at all. Until Jeff says, “There's my good boy,” all fond and balls-deep and Jared doesn't see a pattern yet but sometimes it's just so overwhelming he cries; goes soft and sobs, creamy pulse of Jeff tucked away like some fiery poker so deep in his guts and he'd never want off it, no, it's just so beautiful sometimes.

But it's just hot, and solid, and aching today. The one like an itch, an urge—creeping up his cock from the inside, burning up the long long line of his spine until it bubbles out of his mouth with a huff, a grunt, so deeply pleased he shudders for the sound himself.

“Nice view?”

Jensen chuckles. “That looks uncomfortable.”

“Mm, trust me, I'm _very_ comfortable.” Jared gets jostled by Jeff's hips, grunts for the fingers peeling at his nipples. “Show him,” secret, proud. “Show him how good you are.”

Barely any leverage, but he makes it work—lifts his hips, drops them; shivers, because the angle is perfect and he's been so close for so long now it feels like he's gonna piss himself getting his prostate ground at like that. His cock dribbles out more slick, and he moves again. And again. Lets Jeff pry at his skinny barely-any cheeks, stir his hips up, meet him halfway.

He can only imagine Jensen's perspective. If he's watching at all, if he likes what he sees.

Jared's feet almost slips off Jeff's legs on the kiss to his taint.

Whines, “Oh, shit,” and lets his head fall back, really trembling now and straining up, forward, down, on the thick swell of cock stretching him out too far and the mouth lapping at him too soft. “No, no, 'm gonna come, d-don't, don't—”

“Not yet, baby.”

“Jeff—” Eyes barely open, all he sees is the crown of that blond; Jensen kneeling in front of them, slurping along the swollen pulse of his rim, nose buried just under his balls, and, “—I can't, I, I, f- _fuck_ —”

“ _Not yet_.”

Teeth in his neck, steel-grip around his cock. His whine stretches out, and Jeff speeds his hips up, locks his jaw harder. They hold him up together, Jensen's shoulders supporting his thighs from underneath.

All air Jared gets now is hiccuped and unsteady. He really, really wants to make it. (Whatever 'it' is—Jeff, getting his will, probably, as per usual.)

Jeff shakes the cock in his grip. “Sit on this for Daddy, yeah?”

Jared honest to god sobs, and Jensen's not even moving yet.

He's trembling so hard his teeth are rattling, forces his head up to see—Jensen, his back to them, spreading himself to reveal the drippy mouth of his asshole, bending over so he's all muscled back and strong arms and no head anymore, and he lowers himself, struggles to get it right, and Jeff murmurs, again, “Wait,” as he helps thumbing Jared's cock back in there.

He's molten candy, trembling and mouth-soft, and Jeff tortures him through three heavenly strokes, root to tip, before he orders, “Now,” and Jared lets go, and it hurts.

His body shoots up but Jeff holds him last minute, and Jensen grinds down, and he's caught, unable to even wriggle while he empties what feels like three loads at once into the depth of this body on top of him, eating him up so easily, effortlessly, while Jeff's continuously rubbing out his prostate—starts slamming up into him once the worst seizures are done with, tickles out more like that, makes it go on for at least another minute, god, Jared's lost time and breathed too little.

It's when Jensen starts moving, too, that he rushes, “S-stop. God, stop, stop.”

Jensen chuckles, and some of Jared's come bubbles out on the next downstroke. Runs thick down his cock, smears Jensen's tailbone once smushed back up there.

They keep going until Jeff complains about a cramp. Untangling, Jared becomes aware that he hasn't supported a single pound of his own weight for a while now. Jeff arranges him on his side, boneless. Smacks his ass to make him stir his legs right, curl up kiddie-style, hide his face in his arms.

Jared wakes to the setting sun and the distant squeak of box springs.

He blinks, looks around the room.

They're probably upstairs.

Jared takes a leak, washes his hands and dick and ass, and trots up the stairs. Every single one creaks differently. The drag of mold is heavier up here, mixes with too much dust and forgotten laundry and, perpetually, that certain synthetic sweetness of lube. The bedroom is at the end of the hall and the door could as well be off its hinges. Always open, like the invitation nobody needs from the point of entering this house.

Morgan plows the guy from behind, on the bed. Stands with his back to the door, to Jared, and is deep in his whatever you call it but manages to grunt at him, “Get his face,” while Jared passes, climbs the bed.

Jensen doesn't expect him and flinches pretty. Forgot about him altogether, maybe; Jared can't blame him.

On his knees, blond in the one and half-hard cock in the other hand. Handful of strokes and Jensen's eyes are open for half of those, and he's dropping his mouth open with some needy whine that gives Jared all the permission he needs to push on until he's got that pretty nose nestled up against his pubes.

Feels him convulsing, once, twice.

“If he pukes on the bed, Jared, I swear to god.”

Jared pulls out two inches longer than he went in with and Jensen coughs, heaves, but all there comes is slime, and Jared re-feeds him that. Handfuls of hair, not by any means long enough for pigtails to hold onto, but just enough to put to use. Jared crowds in closer so the effect of blondie getting jostled back and forth between them is more palpable on his dick.

Jensen's gurgling so reverently Jared would be worried if Jeff wasn't not-interfering with this at all. Then again, Jared can very well see the carnage around the general area of the guy's throat, so.

(Jeff's infatuation for love-and-all-other bites has gotten Jared in so much shit he's basically reached a state of immunity.)

Lick of lips, greedy eyes. “Can we switch yet?”

“Wait your turn.”

Jared says, “Hm,” eyes from ass to the hole he currently occupies. Rubs thumbs over drippy lashes and lets him heave air for some beats. He likes how that mouth hangs open even though it's empty, how it quivers like it needs him back. Drips just as bad as Jared's cock, and helps him back inside with stretch and curl of that tippy-tongue.

There haven't been many yet who could take him for this long. Whichever 'boyfriend' (huh, sure) Jared owes for that, he feels like sending a thank you card. Get a drink with him, or something.

Jeff goes for a last spurt, teeth grinding and all before he hisses like he's being burnt, pulls out of Jensen and steps aside, kneads the base of his cock. Says, “Shit,” while Jared's lingering for a few last strokes. “I need a drink. You?”

“'M fine.”

“Ackles Junior?”

Jensen hacks up some more of what Jared's fucked out of his throat. Swallows, and struggles to move with how Jared's hands want him. Tosses out, “Nothin',” breathy and off, more distant and unimportant than the gasp he can't suppress upon Jared slamming in to the hilt. Tries to scramble away but Jared's got him, lets him take it.

Jared misses Jeff returning, taking a seat behind them. Is lost in this rut, this fucking trooper of a guy who's clearly been lying to them, because nothing about him is normal, or even decent.

Hears, Jeff, eventually and around the rim of a bottle, “On the bed. Both of you.”

So Jared does that—pushes Jensen forward, cock still lodged deep, and knees up on the mattress. Switches to one knee, gets the other leg up for better leverage. He can do this forever, if they let him.

It's like nothing else. As if the rest of the world doesn't exist anymore. As if he's really, truly home here, like he was meant for this.

Jeff's fingers are scorching against the sweat-cooled skin of his ass, but mild against the heat of his asshole. Flicked over, held still while Jared keeps rutting; sweet grit of kisses over his shoulder. Jared lets his head fall back to nuzzle into that temple.

Jeff guides him to bend over, both knees down now and flattens him further, until he has to lay Jensen belly-down all the way so he can tilt his hips out for the press of Jeff's slick-again cock. Stutters his his hips, feels his eyes throbbing, burning. So eager to press forward, deeper into that clutched velvet but his ass burns so bad he can barely breathe around it. Jared waits it out until Jensen's clenching around him, sucks on him like he's lonely, and Jared has to pull back some so he can drive back in, impales himself on another inch or so and sighs all tight. Pushes forward, down, and lets Jeff bite around his ear, lets him rake his nails up-down his ribs.

Murmurs, “Shit,” grinds, swivels his cock in there, Jeff's in himself, until Jeff's had enough of it and presses him lower, gently but steady, until he's laid out on Jensen's back entirely, squirming his legs out because it hurts, because Jensen's cunt pulses around him so nice and he can't fuck it right anymore. Hisses, louder, when Jeff re-sinks his teeth, first here and then, later, there, and lets him pump into him as lazy as he wants, sharp as he wants.

“Is he hard?”

Jared forces his hand between sheets and Jensen's hip. Reports, “Nah,” and has that cute-girl stomach flip over that weird anal-high pitch in his own voice.

Jeff lifts and tells him, “Take care of that.”

Takes some help but Jensen climbs out underneath them eventually and Jared winces once he's slipped out, gets his wet dick pushed into the bed, passive, and lifts his head to get between those spread legs. Lets Jeff ruck his ass out by his hips and straddle him, mouths at one of those barely-haired meaty thighs. He doesn't know how long he's been out, earlier. Jensen's balls feel pretty much empty.

The pain is distracting despite slowly ( _slowly_ ) dissolving. Jared laps without much focus, is grateful for the fingers combing his hair out of his face. Soft as he is, he can get all of Jensen's in his mouth, and suckles. He gets a sigh for that, a twitch against the roof of his mouth. Bingo.

Jeff purrs for the first suck-pop noise and spread-kneads Jared's ass, not stopping his descent for a moment.

Jared full-body jolts upon that thumb prying at his asshole, feels a new wave of sweat upon it forcing in next to Jeff's cock. He keeps the tip of Jensen's dick in his mouth to stop himself from complaining, keeps his eyes closed, his ass pushed out.

Jeff tells him, “C'mon, that's not gonna do,” and spanks his ass hard enough for it to jiggle, and Jared's got no excess fat for that shit whatsoever. He comes up for air, stretches his back out, tries to get longer, somehow, will his insides soft. Has Jensen pushing his semi back into his mouth and Jeff adding more lube, two more fingers.

He knows he's not gonna split from it, but.

He's losing a first trickle of spit down his chin, splutters, overwhelmed. More thrill than panic, honest, but, “Slow,” deflated and useless because fingers and cock stroke down in turns, keep him stretched constantly and Jeff scoffs like Jared's nothing but a brat, and digs his pinkie in next.

Jared's forgotten about the cock in his mouth. Knows there's something pushing into the back of his throat, yeah, using him, yeah, but all his body heat pools where Jeff's got him so open, where he feels unreal and inhuman and, god, just fuck him already.

Thinks he says it out loud, because Jeff shushes sweet, tells him to, “C'mere,” and, “move with me,” and, “there you go.”

The world is tilted, and Jeff's not as huge under him as he used to be. Lost some pounds over the years while Jared gained and gained, but still handles him so puppet-easy. Lifts him back on his cock, breathes soft right next to Jared's ear, and holds his legs apart for Jensen kneeing up into that space.

“Get in there,” and, yeah, Jensen does that. Or, tries.

“Shit, sorry. Does it hurt? Shit.”

Jared pleads, “Just _do_ it,” but still yowls when it happens. Is glad that Jeff holds him so tight through the thrashing, and snarls, and hisses, and hears Jensen's honest, “Oh my god,” and bites at Jeff's palm, claws at his head, the pillows.

Again, “Oh my god,” and Jared comes on the second thrust. Quiet, plentiful.

They both groan, milked together like they are.

It's a wild blur from then on.

Jared is pretty sure his shoulder is bleeding at some point, and that one of them spat on his face. That neither of them finishes but that they have to take a break eventually. A lot of heavy breathing going on, unintended cuddling due to the limited space. Jared decides that he won't let them keep going. Jeff grits something about ungrateful little bastards and rolls out of bed to get at the top drawer of his dresser.

Jared groans into Jensen's armpit.

They get both ends of the double-sided dildo into Jensen, but he does tap out around the span of Jared's thumb joint.

Jared's heard his mom holler for him from across the street several times now. She usually gives up after the third. Today's no different.

Jensen is more than half asleep between them now. Doesn't object to Jared playing around with his mouth, or Jeff slopping into his ass, crooning nonsense and unfinished thoughts. Jared's got his leg thrown over both of them, listening.

His concept of romance is Jeff Morgan, screwing his face up after keeping from coming through hours of fucking. Is punched-out, held-back huffs of precious air, tar-thick and so rare, so quiet you miss them if you're not straining your ears right.

Romance is watching him coming undone, letting go, maybe holding his hand if he lets you. Otherwise lay there, watch him, watch him.

Jeff generously lets him peel stray hairs from his forehead, still ebbing with aftershocks but his face is relaxing already, nuzzled into Jensen's hair, his cock definitely still pulsing. Jared leans over to place a cheesy wife-smooch on Jeff's cheek, gets an unwilling, “Urgh,” and slips back under Jensen's arm, face resting on his own angled elbow.

Night never really falls in the summer. A breather, maybe.

Awoken by Jensen stirring and getting up, Jared blinks, rubs at his eye. Jeff's a heavy sleeper and hangs half off the bed, snoring stomach-down. Jared tucks him in before following Jensen downstairs.

Jensen bends over just enough to get a grip on his jeans, fishes them to his chest. From the doorway, Jared watches him peeling out a cigarette, tucking it into the corner of his mouth before digging further, maybe for a lighter.

Hears, “You want one?”

They sit on the bare patio. The wood is still warm from the day. Jensen checks his phone while he smokes, and Jared smokes while he thinks of a way to get Jensen to suck his dick again.

Jensen taps countless texts, eyes unbroken on the screen and dipping away ashes with a flick of his thumb. “You two do this a lot?”

“What.”

“Screwing clueless strangers over?”

Jared shrugs his shoulders. “'M not really keepin' track.”

Jensen says, “Sure you don't,” and sucks on his smoke.

“...Are you really gonna spend the night?”

Jared gets a wary look. “What's it look like?”

Jared has no clever answer and returns to smoking in silence. Cigarette almost-gone, he gathers himself again. “W-where, uh. Where're you from?”

Jensen takes a deep drag from his smoke and doesn't look up from his phone. “I'm only down here for the summer.”

“So, where do you live.” When no answer comes, he nods, “Okay.”

After a while: “Is he always like that?”

“What do you mean.”

“An asshole.”

“Oh. Yeah. I guess.”

“I mean I get it, but still.” Jensen whistles, discards some more built-up ashes. “Dude, you have to put your foot down sometimes. Nobody likes a push-over.”

Jared looks at Jensen, and Jensen's knees, and his own knees, and his own hands. Spits, “Well,” faces away to take the next drag (one of the last) from his smoke, “ _he_ likes me.”

 


End file.
